The Truth Of The Mabari
by Coranth
Summary: Mabari War Hounds were magically bred by the Formari - the College of the Tranquil - to not only be swift and strong, but also smart. But... just -how- is it that they're so intelligent? Traveling with Alistair, a conscripted Apostate reveals the truth...


Disclaimer: Bioware / Electronic Arts owns Dragon Age: Origins. I don't, so I can't make any money off it. I can, however, write this small story based off it, which I hope you enjoy.

**The Truth of the Mabari**

"Just how smart are Mabari supposed to be, anyway? Do you think they understand everything we say?" As she heard Alistair's flippant question, my Mabari War Hound, Sarah, growled softly in warning. Alistair immediately moved to placate her, but before he could say anything, I silenced him with a _look_ and then softly stroked my beloved animal companion's head. "Sssh," I said quietly as I rubbed along the top of her furred head, and between her ears, "he didn't mean anything by it, Sarah; there's no need to be angry with him. He doesn't know. He doesn't know..." As we continued to relax and bask in the warmth of the campfire's flickering, orange light, my _human_ traveling companion, Alistair, turned to look at me, a frown creasing his face.

"'Doesn't know' what?" He asked, gazing across the fire at Sarah and I. "What don't I know?" I didn't answer his question. Instead, I turned from him to gaze into the eyes of my Mabari, and with that gaze, I conveyed to her a silent question. 'Should I tell him, Sarah?' Sarah nodded in reply, a soft, sorrow-filled whine escaping her. Upon seeing that, I heaved a deep, weary sigh, then turned back to Alistair and replied, "What the majority of the people of Ferelden don't know. What the Chantry and the Circle of Magi - especially the College of the Formari - don't want you to know: the truth about the Mabari. What they really are." Upon hearing my words, Alistair opened his mouth again - perhaps to ask a question - but my next words quickly silenced him.

"Shut the hell up and listen, 'cause I'm only going to tell you this once, alright?" When he closed his jaw with an audible 'click', and nodded, I continued. "Duncan told you about me, before we met, right? How I'm an apostate Mage from the Circle; that I was 'branded' as such by that Chasind-spawned zealot, Greagoir, when I helped my friends, Jowan and Lilly, destroy Jowan's Phylactery and escape from the Circle Tower. You know all that, right?" When Alistair nodded, I continued, "If you heard it from Duncan, then you also know that he 'conscripted' me before that damn Lyrium addict was going to have me made Tranquil. Knowing what I know about how the Tranquil are 'made'... that would be a fate worse than death. The Tranquil aren't what you think they are, not at all."

I lapsed into silence, then - expecting Alistair to reply with some sort of sarcastic quip or witty comment - but for a moment, he _didn't_ reply; his attention was riveted by my softly spoken words. Then, finally, he whispered, "What do you mean? What are you talking about?" Before answering him, I turned my attention to Sarah for a moment and petted her repeatedly, running a hand from the top of her head, down her back, to the base of her tail. When she moved to rest her head in my lap with a soft, contented sigh, I returned my attention to Alistair and asked, "What do you know about Mabari War Hounds, Alistair?"

Alistair thought for a moment, his brow creasing into a frown, before he replied, "Well, I've heard legends; that the ancient warriors of Ferelden used to feed their Mabari the flesh of the vanquished." At that, Sarah gave a questioning whine, as I snorted and then replied, "_Really?" _"It's true," Alistair responded. "Sometimes it would even be," his voice dropped low as he all but purred, "_human flesh_. I also know that Mabari are magically bred by the Formari, and that they're really smart; able to understand and follow complex orders."

Continuing to caress Sarah, I grunted softly in acknowledgment, before I replied, "You're right about them being smart, but the other thing - them being 'magically bred' - is all horseshit. Mabari aren't magically _bred; _they are _made._" Intrigued, Alistair leaned forward and stared at me across the fire's light. "What are you talking about, man?" he asked. I didn't answer his question. Instead, I inhaled, then exhaled, a deep, weary sigh, before I said. "Before I tell you, answer me this: What do you know of the Tranquil? You're a Templar, man; come on, this one's easy." Alistair immediately answered, "If the Circle of Magi declares an apprentice too dangerous to undergo his Harrowing, or if he is too frightened, then he is forced to undergo the Rite of Tranquility.

I'm not a Mage, so I don't know much about this Rite, save what most people know: that it involves a brand made of Lyrium and - when it's complete - the Mage is made Tranquil. A mage who has become Tranquil is completely cut off from the Fade. This means he can't be possessed by demons, and can't dream or experience emotions." At this, I nodded; what he knew was common knowledge. "That's true... to a degree. It's what the Circle of Magi - and by extension, the Chantry - want you, and everyone to know. Now, I'll tell you what you _don't_ know. The truth is that the Tranquil, and the Mabari, are inextricably bound. One can not exist without the other. I know this, because I managed to witness the creation of a Mabari. Let me tell you the story."

When Alistair nodded, I paused for a moment to gather my thoughts, and then, I began. "Back when I was still an apprentice puppet of the Circle, and those Maker-damned Tinpot Templars with their pig-stickers, I... met a girl-and _no_ Alistair, she _wasn't_ a Chantry initiate! I, unlike Jowan, had less audacity and far more sense. My girl was a mage, same as I was... _what?"_ Alistair had a huge, shit-eating grin on his face, and a twinkle in his eye. Sighing at his immaturity, I said, "Yes, Alistair, she was a _girl-mage._ They do exist, you know? They're females who can do magic, and without them, grownup mages wouldn't be able to make little baby mages! Can I _please_ continue, now?" When he chuckled and nodded, I continued my tale.

"The girl's name was Sarah, and she and I became friends with each other almost immediately. We shared the same classes, helped each other with our magic education, and - as time passed - she and I became really close, so much so that we made a vow to each other, that if we were ever separated we'd always find each other. Sarah and I fell in love... but things didn't turn out well for us back then, at all. Sarah was a _powerful_ mage, Alistair; so powerful, in fact, that she never went through the Harrowing, the Rite that nearly all Apprentice Mages go through to become a full Mage. Greagoir, and that manipulative old curmudgeon Irving, both decided that she was too powerful." At this, Alistair's eyes widened. "Then that means that she was..."

A quiet whimper escaped Sarah, as I nodded solemnly, before replying, "Yes, Alistair... she was made Tranquil. Those bastards decided that Sarah would undergo the Rite of Tranquility almost from the moment that she arrived at the doors of that damn prison they call the Circle Tower. The day that it happened - the day I _saw_ it happen, _the day I saw everything -_ was the day after I passed my Harrrowing. The room where the Harrowing is performed is at the top of the Circle Tower; the room where they perform the Rite of Tranquility is on the floor below. I should know; I was there, within a place only I knew about - a hidden alcove, just outside the room, where no Templar or Mage could see me.

It was there that I saw it all... Via a small hole in the alcove's wall, I watched as no more than _four _Templars and two Senior Enchanters escorted Sarah into that room. They didn't care a whit about her. She was visibly shaking, her face wet and streaked with tears of resignation... but they didn't care. Once she was brought in, I watched with curiosity as two Beast Masters brought into that room a _fully-grown female Mabari Hound. _This female Mabari, however, wasn't like the ones you know, either - she wasn't 'as smart as your average Tax Collector' - oh, no, she was wild, and utterly feral. After they'd brought the Mabari in, the Beast Masters swiftly restrained her... and then, then the Senior Enchanters began the Rite of Tranquility... the _real_ Rite, not the horseshit that 'everyone' knows.

The Mages painted the Brand of the Tranquil on Sarah's forehead - not with Lyrium, but with _blood - _and after doing so, they painted the same Brand onto the forehead of the Mabari. Then - as the Templars and the Beast Masters looked on - the Mages began to _chant _in a harsh, guttural-sounding tongue_. _The language was magical - I know that much - but, it was _ancient,_ Alistair; something that obviously _wasn't_ taught as part of our magical education. As the Mages chanted, the Brands painted on Sarah and the Mabari began to glow with magical energies... and then the Mabari went _rigid_ and Sarah began to _scream_; a sound of disbelief, horror... and eventually, insanity.

As the Mages continued their chant, the magical energies suffusing the brands etched upon Sarah and the Mabari intensified. Horrified, I watched, as the eyes of my beloved Sarah became dull and lifeless, whilst the brown eyes of the feral Mabari became _civil_ - filled with intelligence, and life. When Sarah's terrified screams became the howls and yelps of a terrified Mabari, I knew then, that it was over..." As the sound of my voice faded into silence, I glanced at Alistair across the firelight. He was sitting across from us in a state of complete silence, looking at Sarah as though he'd never seen her before at all, as if she was something utterly _alien. _After what seemed like an age, he finally swallowed some saliva to moisten his dry throat.

Then, softly, he rasped, "You... you're saying that the Rite of Tranquility is..." I nodded solemnly, moving to soothe Sarah, whom was trembling and whimpering, lost within her memories of that terrible day. "Blood Magic!" I finished darkly. "Now you know why I utterly hate and despise the Maker-cursed Chantry _and_ the Circle of Magi! Those damned _hypocrites_ abhor and ban Blood Magic... and yet, _they use it themselves, _in that Archdemon-spawned ritual!" With gentle words, and soft caresses of her body, I did my best to reassure my Mabari, Sarah... my _beloved_, Sarah...that all was well. When she finally calmed, settling down into a deeper, dreamless sleep, I raised my head to look at Alistair and replied, "Later - via, ahem... 'borrowing'... certain restricted texts from Irving's office - I learned that what I'd seen that terrible day was the _real _Rite of Tranquility.

When activated by an ancient spell - the guttural chant I'd heard - the blood-based Brands used during the Rite acted as a _conduit,_ through which a _living soul_ could be partially transferred from one being to another. Those Broodmother-borne bastards _ripped my Sarah's soul from her original, human body and forced it into the body of an animal! _Everything that was _her_ was transferred into the Mabari, but they left just enough of her soul in her human body to create another soulless husk, another Tranquil Mage!" By the time I finished my tale, Alistair was in a state of shock; he was pale, and visibly shaking, as he _stared _openly at my Mabari Hound, Sarah, in horror_._ Soon, however, after regaining his composure, he asked. "Is... is this all true? You're not joking?"

Instead of responding to his question, gently, I shook Sarah awake. Opening her eyes, she yawned softly, and then moved to sit up. Leaning against me, she panted softly, and I ran a hand down her back before gesturing to Alistair and softly whispering into her ear, "Love... show him. He needs to know the truth." Upon hearing my words, Sarah whipped her head around to look at me, her gentle brown eyes widening as a questioning whine escaped her. Responding to her silent query, I answered, "Yes, love, he knows everything now, but he needs to see it from you. Please, show him."

With a hesitant nod of her head, Sarah picked up a relatively sturdy stick from the forest floor with her mouth. Then, moving around the campfire to Alistair, she lowered her head and began using the stick to _write_ in the dirt! Slowly, laboriously, in a childlike script, she wrote, _**"mi nam is sara and wat david sed is tru alistr. befor i was mad a dog i was a woman, a maj. its tru, plese, yu must beleve us!"**_ Once Alistair had read those words, she erased them with her tail and then began to write again, "_**wat those majs did to me was vyl! they tok mi sol from my body and put it in a dog; they made me a dog... but i kpt mi vow and fownd mi love... i fownd mi love..."**_

When he finished reading her words, Alistair snapped his head up to look at me "'... I kept my vow... I found my love...? If this... if all this is true, then... is she saying that you and she still...?" Dropping the stick, Sarah let out a happy bark and then returned to me by performing an enormous leap right over the campfire's flickering flames! She moved to sit beside me, and I embraced her, wrapping an arm about her brown-furred, kaddis-patterned body. Soon, she turned her head to look at me, and I softly kissed her on the nose. She returned the gesture with a series of soft, delicate kiss-licks to my lips. She and I would have made it a proper kiss, but I didn't want to offend poor Alistair's delicate sensibilities.

"Yes, Alistair," I responded, upon returning my attention to him, "Sarah and I still love each other; spiritually, mentally, and... _physically_. She is my reason for being, and without me, Sarah would have succumbed to insanity long ago. We love each other." When he heard my reply Alistair just _stared _at Sarah and I for a moment - his eyes visibly widening - before he suddenly burst out _laughing!_ Sarah _snarled_ at the sound, and I just heaved a weary sigh, but so consumed was he by his laughter - by what he obviously thought was the biggest joke ever - that he didn't hear our reactions.

Soon, his laughter faded away on the wind. Once he was able to come to his senses, he said, "Whew! You almost had me there for a moment, you know? I was beginning to think you were actually telling the truth. That's a great trick by the way - teaching Sarah to write like that. She really had me fooled..." Absolute fury filling her gaze, Sarah _barked_ a command and I responded to it, raising a hand to cast an Arcane Bolt at his feet. This served to shut him up; he leaped to his feet and backed away, the expression on his face warring between confusion and outright fear. I stood and moved to get in his face, Sarah at my side. "Goddamn it, man!" I yelled. "Think back, to the time I first encountered this particular Mabari, back when we were at Ostagar!"

He did... and then, he remembered_... _How Sarah had immediately seemed to _recognize me_ when I'd entered her pen for the first time to muzzle her, even though I'd never met her, as a Mabari, before. How she'd actually moved her head this way and that way to _assist me_ with her muzzling, when a normal Mabari would not. The profound relief and immense gratitude within her far-too-expressive gaze, upon being cured of the poisonous effects of the Darkspawn Blood she'd swallowed. The moment just after He, Morrigan, and I had fought and defeated the group of Darkspawn we had encountered on the road to Lothering. After we'd defeated the Darkspawn stragglers, Sarah had actually _embraced me_; she'd jumped up - balancing on her hind legs - to wrap her massive paws about my shoulders, and _nuzzle me_ enthusiastically.

How - after Morrigan had insulted me one-too-many times - Sarah had overwhelmed her, almost crushing the life out of her, before driving her away, back to the Kocari Wilds. The way she walked, unlike any other Mabari: softly, delicately, with a definite feminine sway to her hips. How, during combat against our foes, she would fight stealthily like a _rogue _- luring her opponents into places where she might easily ambush them before killing them silently by snapping their necks or suffocating them with her mighty jaws. And finally, he remembered all of the _little things; _the closeness we shared - far deeper than the normal bond between man and animal - and all of the looks, gestures, and soft touches of fur to skin.

Suddenly, Alistair visibly paled again. "By the Maker..." he murmured, quietly, "it's... it's true, it's all true..." He apologized to me, then - a gesture I accepted - before he knelt to look at Sarah "I'm sorry" he said to her, quietly. She nodded, gazing back at him with her gentle brown eyes... eyes that were far too human...

END


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